


Noir Désir

by love_dher



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Emotions, Feels, Fluff and Angst, M/M, but also memes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-10-05 16:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20491529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_dher/pseuds/love_dher
Summary: thank u for reading <3 comment requests or ideas if u like





	1. Chapter 1

Speeding along the track, his heart beat fast. He had been waiting for a moment like this. Leading the pack, passing Eau Rouge - it made him forget the pain, it felt somewhat fulfilling.

The team radio turned on, the white noise pulling him back into reality whilst the ecstatic feeling of speed and lack of gravitation still blurred his thoughts. Compared to the kind of terror in bed with Giada (no offense but this is Lec/Ver) this was what he _imagined _sex to feel like. “Verstappen’s out” Well, not exactly like this. _What’s with him? _he thought but continued setting the pace.

There must have been other drivers crashing and being disqualified but Charles was too focused to listen to the team radio. Only one sentence stuck out to him: **“You’re making him proud, for sure.” **It needed no context and although it caused an odd feeling, he felt enough motivation to keep defending the lead at a steady pace as Hamilton got closer. He tried his best but in the almost third to last corner he realized that that was it. The Mercedes was faster and too close. He expected its nose to appear next to him every second. But it didn’t happen. Last turn. Last chance for Hamilton. 

Nothing.

No overtake.

Crossing the checkered flag, everyone cheered. He couldn’t. _How _could he, if the boy he competed against in his first cart race died on this track not even 24 hours ago.

The time on the podium felt like an eternity. He _wanted_ to celebrate his first Formula One career win but if he was the only one who couldn’t then what did it mean to everyone else? Does his team really just care about the profit they could make off of him? Was Anthoine just a driver? What meaning did motorsport still have?

He kept pointing up at the sky, dedicating his win to him, ensuring that he would never be forgotten.

_”He would be proud, for sure.”_

Who said that? He needed to talk to whoever said that. Hastily storming through the hallways behind the pit lane he ran right into Max Verstappen who was already wearing his casual Red Bull attire.

Charles looked into his blue eyes for at least two seconds too long before realizing what the _something with Verstappen_ was. “You...”, he mumbled as if he tried to figure out how to open his mouth further. “I?” Verstappen just looked more confused than he did in the first place. “What happened in lap one?” he finally managed to ask. “Kimi, I guess.” A vague response but Charles didn’t set high expectations anyway. “Can I help you?” The Dutch started getting desperate as the confused man dressed in red still wouldn’t let him pass, but the question just echoed through Charles’ head while he slowly lost his senses due to the massive lack of sleep last night. Everything went black and he felt a sudden peace spread through his body.


	2. Chapter 2

“No, he will not need a day off.” Charles’ hearing got clearer. 

“Doc, he’s awake.” A familiar male voice.

The room was white, his eyes still adjusting to the light as he squinted. “You okay?” The heavy german accent made it clear whose face was blocking his sight. “Excuse moi?” 

“Verstappen brought you here. Do you remember anything?” 

Of course he remembered. Verstappen told him that he had crashed in the first corner and then he passed out. He nodded. “Oui. Where’s Verstappen?”

”He just left to get some food but he insisted to check up on you after you woke up.” He perceived the nice gesture with a nod and would wait for him to come back while the doctor did some tests on him. 

“Didn’t get enough sleep?”

“Oui, I guess.”

“Any drug use?”

”No.”

A ton of boring questions later the door opened. Mattia entered the room.

”Is there reason to worry about you, too?”

”No, it’s just-“

”Lack of sleep.” Charles got cut off and the doctor received an eye roll for that. He left the conversation to regain strength after being passed out for who knows how many hours.

”Where is Verstappen?” he then asked as he heard him being mentioned. 

“Probably at Red Bull. He really thought he could enter the Ferrari compartment as he pleased after _saving the golden boy_.”, followed by a sound of annoyance from Mattia.

“Then I will-“ “Get some rest. Go back to your room.”

_What kind of treatment is this? He’s not a damn child anymore. _

They couldn’t see where he’d go anyway so once he was out of sight he took the turn towards the Red Bull wing. He greeted Gasly who had heard about the incident already as he passed Toro Rosso. Continuing his journey he finally arrived and saw Max immediately.

“Verstappen?” 

“Charles, you’re awake! How are you? You looked really exhausted back then.” 

“Just didn’t sleep well last night.” Charles responded while they gave each other a formal half-hug. “I’m feeling better now for sure but I still got mixed feelings about my win.” His eyes were lowered and he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve it. He would have never wanted to stop you from enjoying your success.”

Those words and his gentle squeeze made him feel warm, understood. He wrapped his arms around the other driver. “Thank you.”

”Can I ask you something?” Max held Charles at distance by his shoulders, keeping eye contact. “Oui?”

”Did you love him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading <3 comment requests or ideas if u like


	3. Chapter 3

“Pardon? Do I look _fucking gay_ to you?” Charles laughed it off and freed himself from the other man’s grip. “Got to go. À bientôt en italie.” 

Max watched Charles step away in what he identified as pride. He sighed as soon as he supposed he was out of hearing distance. _Of course not. _he thought but let none of his anger through as the Red Bull psychologist had advised him. He checked his phone and noticed the time: 21:46. Time to drive to his hotel. Tomorrow he would take his flight back home again.

His mind couldn’t quite rest as he turned on his bed for what felt like the thousandth time. The _golden boy_, as everyone called him, with the childishly young face, yet prominent light stubble, incredibly thick lashes and charming south-european vibe was stuck in his head. He had known him for a few years but similar to Anthoine, he was never aware of an actual friendship.

Maybe he had put in too much trust, expectations of casualness took advantage of him. _There had to be more to him than what meets the eye._ A professional driver would have never gotten this sleep-deprived out of negligence. Not on the evening before a race. Not because of the death of a friend.

The callousness of his thoughts stuck in his throat like a lump. 

His phone rang. _Christian Horner._ Why did he call this late?

”Hello?” The sleep, or much rather the lack of it, was audible in his voice.

_“Hello Max. I hope I didn’t wake you.” _Well, he didn’t exactly. _“Pierre Gasly just requested to receive your personal phone number. He said it’s urgent.”_

”Wha- Yeah, sure. Did he tell you why?”

_“Something about Toro Rosso and your experience there. I didn’t fully understand what he meant but he said you would.”_

”Okay, that’ll do. I trust him.”

_”Again, sorry for the disturbance. Have a good night.”_

”Thank you. You too.”

He put the phone away, too tired to be confused. Didn’t he have his phone number? He checked his messages. None. They must’ve texted through Instagram.

Even though he waited for messages or calls from Pierre he must’ve fallen asleep while looking at his phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be about yesterday’s practices + the qualifying ;)


	4. Chapter 4

“Good job, Charles.”

The Monégasque had just pulled off his helmet and looked up at Max.

“Thanks. What’s up with your engine?”

”There’s some problem but it only occurs in quali mode.” He nodded in registration.

For a moment, they stood in silence, until Charles waved him over to the side. “C’mere.” They went into the empty Ferrari pit together.

”You see, I’m sorry about last time. I didn’t mean to sound so rude, it’s just”, he paused for a second, overthinking, “I’m straight.” Max frowned in confusion. “Well, I am too.”

As he aimed for the exit, Charles grabbed his sleeve. They shared a look. “Anything else?”, Max asked. “Ah, no!”, his eyes widened as he looked at his hand and let go immediately. “Sorry.” Max nodded and left.

”What _was _that?”, Charles shook his head as he entered his changing room. After undressing completely and casually walking into the shower he first noticed how much he had been sweating. The icy water felt nice on his skin and distracted him from his busy thoughts, sending a feeling of relief through his body. He sighed and reached out for a towel but all he got was humid air so he stuck his head outside of the shower curtain. There was no red towel with a Ferrari logo next to the shower. “Seb? Mattia? Anyone?”

”Charles?” He immediately recognized the familiar voice with the heavy dutch accent. His face went red and he pulled the curtain back to fully cover himself.

”I need a towel.”, he almost squealed and tried to sound as professional as possible while stuttering half the words. 

“Hm?” Max looked around the corner and tossed him a navy blue Red Bull towel. 

Charles, who almost couldn’t catch it, quickly wrapped it around his lower half and carefully stepped out of the shower. “Thanks. Good luck tomorrow.” He managed to mumble and went back into his changing room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> charles: i’m straight 
> 
> landi norris: so is spaghetti until it gets wet ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> haven’t proof read yet oop-


	5. Chapter 5

The win in Monza had felt like a dream to Charles, as if he was on some trip the whole time. When he finally got back into his routine he realized what this meant for his career.

Scoring pole after pole, win after win, he might even set new records. Another pole in Singapore. He was all that Mattia talked about. “You’re really saving the season, Charles.” The Monégasque felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. Ferrari’s team chef had started to treat him with the respect he deserved as he now knows how to show his true skill. “I’m just giving it my best.”

A wide grin kept coming to his face every now and then, more so often in the past few weeks. He was Ferrari’s new hope - and it felt amazing.

As he started from pole position - once again - the next day, everything was going flawless. Leading the grid through the race, an optimal pitstop. He knew he would have to fight his way back to the top but - to his surprise - his teammate was going to go against him. Vettel undercut him. His tires wouldn’t allow an overtake, he had to save them for the end. Even though he kept calm he was boiling with anger. He let Vettel win yet everybody knew he wouldn’t be ok with this. 

Blind to the fact that Verstappen was next to him on the podium and that both Ferraris managed to outrace both Mercedes, he was boiling with anger the whole time, rushing up to his hotel room as fast as he could but still being held up by a strong hand that pulled him close. 

“You did so good today.” Charles stared into the deep blue eyes that were scanning every centimeter of his face. “Thank you.”, he coughed out as professional as possible, “Still wasn’t better than Vettel.” “Nou en? Better than me for sure.” The dutch’s voice was low and raspy and Charles could smell the champagne in his breath. “You should go to your room.” “You should come with me.” Max grinned. Charles shook his head. “You’re sober enough to find it.” “But too drunk to stay there alone.” He sighed and eventually gave in. On the way there it turned out that Max couldn’t exactly walk in a straight line anymore and didn’t remember where he left his key card. “Tasje? Maybe in my pocket?” Charles quickly slid his hand down into Max’s front pocket to check for the card. “Voelt goed.”, he hummed and the other driver noticed how unnecessarily close he was to him once again. He couldn’t tell what those dutch words meant but they definitely didn’t sound like anything appropriate to the situation so he tried to unlock the door immediately as he pulled his hand out of the pocket but didn’t expect Max - who he then noticed to be way stronger than himself - to pull him into the room with him. 

“I won’t stay for long.”, Charles replied when Max kept pleading him to sleep in his room, “How would I get back in the morning without anyone noticing? You’ve got to sleep, too.” He caressed his hair, Max lying his head down on his lap. When Charles finally left after the dutch had fallen asleep he gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and returned to his room with his organs feeling like they had been rearranged the completely wrong way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all better be watching the sochi gp


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was fun to write wow also thanks for all the kudos, really appreciate y’all <3

Charles bit his lip. He couldn’t avoid him any longer.

\- After he had been isolating himself most of the time spent in Sochi and finishing in third place, he felt relieved about PR as he could open the ventile of words, share insight on the agreement and, most important to him, distract himself with the analysis of his team’s performance that race.

He tensely adjusted his Poloshirt, facing his own reflection.

\- Not sure whether it was the lack of sleep, the aftermath of the ‘Super Sunday’, Max or all three of them which were to blame but Charles couldn’t get up to answer the calls he’s been hearing for several minutes through his hotel room. 

The dominant ringtone signified Giada’s calls. There was no way she wouldn’t have suspicions on his behavior. 

\- He could claim that he’s tired - which is actually the truth - but that still wouldn’t cover anything up.

Charles checked the time as soon as his screen turned back off: 19:36. Everyone should’ve eaten by now.

He took the stairs to avoid who could’ve been in the elevator and ordered some sushi for his lonely rendezvous. His eyes scanned the room as he sat down but he spotted no one else except for an old couple and what appears to be a dark navy sweater left on the back of a chair not far from him. 

Hardly remembering where the RedBull teammates sat last evening he decided to take it with him when he left, taking a big sip of the wine and debating whether it might have been worn by Max. 

He arrived at his hotel room feeling quite bubbly as he made out the sewn in letters by touch. ‘MAX VERSTAPPEN’ the space in the upper left read and he gently caressed the fabric, exploring the various surfaces. Printed logos that left a cold, hard feeling and soft edges held together by firm stitches. His hand wandered into the right sleeve, his thoughts to Max’s hand.

”Charles?”, a knock on his door.

“Yes?”

”It’s me, Seb. Can I come in?”

”Sure, it’s open.” Charles sighed before the German driver stepped in. “Do you remember that incident at the start? - Wait, what is that?”

“Someone left it in the dining room. I think it’s Max’.”, his eyes studied the piece of clothing a bit longer, “What about the start, turn 2?”

”Yeah, you’ll get a penalty for that. Max got called in by the stewards after complaining long enough.”

Charles felt his blood heat up and he cringed in disgust. “I did the same as he did earlier this year. Stupide!” 

“I know but there’s nothing we can do about it. You got 15 seconds added meaning you end up in P7.” 

“I could’ve done so much better!” The Monégasque clutched onto the fabric in his hands, attempting to tear it apart. “You did send Verstappen out of the race so what better was there for you to do?” Seb let himself fall onto the bed next to Charles and gave him a friendly one-armed hug.

“That’s not the point.”, Charles uttered as he held back tears. He failed, though, and a hot drop rolled down his cheek. Seb tightened his grip and eyed the dark sweater that his teammate held onto.

The ringtone of Charles’ phone echoed through the hotel room once again. This time it wasn’t Giada, but an unknown number.


	7. Chapter 7

Seb had left a few minutes ago and Charles was staring at the number he thought to be unknown. As he was scrolling through his messages he caught sight of a message from Pierre, containing the same number. Max had called him. His eyes turned to the sweater next to him. He must have wanted to get it back. Why didn’t he return it immediately? He bit his lip out of embarrassment. What if Max might take it the wrong way? How could you even take that the right way? 

He jumped when the number popped up on his screen once again but answered the call. A lump formed in his throat.

”Yes?”

“Charles? I heard you picked up the sweater I forgot in the dining hall.”

”Yes.”

”Could you come over and give it to me?”

It felt like his stomach got sucked in by his spleen.

”Yes. I will.”

He bit the inside of his cheek.

”Also”, Max paused, “let’s not talk about turn 2. That was an unlucky situation.”

“Sure, but...”, Charles sighed.

”Yeah?”

“_Je ne sais pas_. I don’t know.”

“See you in a bit?”

”Yeah, just give me a second to find your apartment in this huge complex.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: changed the dialogue up a bit.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter took a bit longer but it’s also longer than expected lol

“Thanks.”, Max smiled politely as Charles gave him the piece of clothing, “I already assumed a fan took it.”

A long silence lingered right in between them, awkwardness increasing with the passing time.

”Can I invite you in for a drink? I just bought some japanese sodas and I don’t think I can finish all of it on my own.” Max’ voice got more quiet by the end but he was relieved to see Charles nod at the offer. “Sounds good.” 

He passed Charles one of the cans and they sat down at the japanese table which was typically low-leveled.

Max fidgeted and pondered how to induce conversation. Ask about the race? No, they probably share the unpleasant aftertaste. His private life? He most doubtlessly didn’t want Charles to go into raptures about his girlfriend.

“Sorry for ruining your race.” Max had just become aware of the Monégasque looking at him and easily swallowed his pride at those eyes. “It’s ok.” 

He found himself lost at Charles’ exterior while the other driver scanned the foreign figures of the can.

“I think there’s alcohol in it.”, he smiled suggestively after emptying the second beverage and Max now realized that he wasn’t able to differentiate between the affects of alcohol and love. The red glow on Charles’ cheeks indicated that he was the same.

As time went by, they got more talkative, drunker and the topics kept developing in one direction. Like a race, just that, unlike their usual top speed on track, it was as if they first had to warm up their tires, get comfortable with each other.

One of the drivers they made contact with was Daniel Ricciardo.

“He was my teammate last year, yeah. I think he’s quite different from other guys on the grid.”

“What do you mean, ‘different’?”

“How do I say... Not that straight?” Max chuckled and his humor was contagious. After having a good laugh he couldn’t help but observe Charles’ angelic laughter. Max smiled.

He got the urge to use the bathroom - the first pit stop. At that opportunity he splashed some cold water into his face to regain some consciousness. He didn’t intend to take much longer. He had to make fast moves, but this would require confidence.

When he re-entered Charles had already taken advantage of the width of the bed and his sleepy eyes flinched at the artificial light spreading in the room until Max shut the door, cutting off the light source, leaving them in soft illumination of the moon.

“You got a RedBull?”

“Yeah, it’s in the garage.”, Max grinned and walked over to the fridge.

Taking out two cans he heard Charles yawn causing his heart to melt. “Have some wings, angel.” He winked and handed him the energy drink.

“My girlfriend called me that sometimes.”, Charles stated as he opened it.

_Verstappen went straight into the wall!_

\- Suddenly he felt much more sober, being reminded of both their girlfriends, how wrong this was.

Charles sighed and gulped down the majority of the caffeinated content.

“Don’t drink the whole thing at once.”, Max advised and took a sip as well.

\- He guessed the alcohol was responsible for the overwhelming guilt he felt, but that couldn’t better his mood. In fact, he sensed an even greater guilt because he was the reason they had gotten drunk in the first place.

”You look worried, Max.”, the soft sensation of a cautious hand on his cheek, “Are you okay?” 

Charles wasn’t supposed to be this close.

He had positioned himself right in front of him, his out-breath grazing the sensitive skin of Max’ face.

His senses went hazy, yet so sharp.

All there was was Charles - all he could see, hear, feel, smell, and all he could taste. 

His hands felt numb but the feeling of his fingertips on Charles’ skin spread throughout his whole body. He pushed him into the covers as movements got rougher and his tongue dipped in between the other driver’s lips.

They were lying on the bed in a tangle, both intoxicated and oblivious to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consider ‘charles’ a feeling


	9. Chapter 9

“_Godverdomme_, Charles,

_Ik mis je_, so much. Did yesterday actually happen? Holy fuck.

I hope you’re safe. On your flight. I don’t want to lose you, you know.”

Short silence.

”Does that sound cheesy?” He sighed.

”You looked so beautiful. The moonlight, your eyes reflected it, like tiny little stars. It was like, a mix of blue and green. What color is that?

No idea. But it was so so bright, and all in your eyes.

Those gazes, those touches, those kisses. Ah, I’m getting all mushy, I hope I don't sound like some hopeless romantic!” 

A longer pause, Charles checked if the recording still went on.

An effortless sigh broke the silence.

”I love you, Charles. See you in Mexico.”

Damp crackling marked the memo’s end.

Charles was immediately captured by a camera lens as he exited the airplane’s restroom.

”30 minutes, man. What were you doing in there? 30 minutes!” The Aussie beamed in his usual smug flair.

Flimsiness shaped Charles’ afterward behavior, though; Daniel promptly fell asleep as the ceiling lights darkened, Charles on the other hand was restless. His mind struggled to compose a reply that would mirror his perception. What _did_ he feel? Flooded by contemplation, waves of emotions hit him. He found himself swimming in an ocean of deep blue eyes - an ocean of _Max_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a voice memo by max to charles :)


	10. Chapter 10

“Are you sure you can race tomorrow? There’s no point in qualifying for a race you can’t drive.”

“I’ll be fine. Didn’t you want to speak to Max?” 

Pierre was the only person Charles had opened up to. Barely any other person had been as close to him as Pierre for the past few weeks due to the difficulties that the friendships of an F1 driver would face. Lots of traveling, and almost no free time. Charles wondered how other drivers were able to parenthetically maintain marriages and even families.

”I think you should ask him out.”

”No. That’s just plain stupid. We’re both way too busy, and he probably wasn’t serious anyway, let alone sober.”

The qualifying proceeded with no further interaction, leaving a void as replacements to both their desires which fell into the background during the battle for pole. Controversial yet brave was not only Max’ final lap but also the idea of an official relationship between them that Charles couldn’t get his mind off. The perturbation came to a climax when Max pulled him into his locker after he was fidgety throughout the press conference.

All tension was released as soon as they were alone with each other. Max was overfilled with euphoria, and Charles was celebrating for him, too.

There was no rivalry in that moment; just them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so rushed i am so sorry (will edit it after the race)


End file.
